


morning will come

by lumimochi



Category: Apink, Block B
Genre: AU, Pining, real person fiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 16:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7720933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumimochi/pseuds/lumimochi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He feels wretched.</p>
            </blockquote>





	morning will come

They’ve had this conversation before, years ago. When he had just opened up his recording studio with Jiho, and she had just landed a position as a journalist doing small, local stories, like the senior dog who’d miraculously been adopted after a decade in the pound, or the little boy who saved his little sister from drowning.

“Summer,” he’d said, jogging around a pile of vibrant, fallen leaves to catch up with her.

“What about it?”

“Let’s get married in the summer. The end of July or the beginning of August.”

He’d smiled wryly when she hadn’t even paused. “What are you talking about?” She’d responded, mirth wrapped around her words.

They’d been walking side by side, and somehow, her arm had looped around his. They’d looked like a couple; he’d though at the time. He’d laughed, and pulled her closer to him. “You know, if we’re still single by the time we’re thirty.”

She’d stopped to look at him then, a thoughtful look making her usually bright features softer, more mature. “Okay,” she’d replied with a gentle smile.

He can’t help but reminisce on it, in this situation.

“New Years,” she tells him excitedly, while her fiancé huffs next to her, indignant because he’d wanted to be the one to tell him. (“You said I could tell him!” He exclaims when he picks his jaw back up from the floor.) She smiles wide and sticks her tongue out in response.

They walk out of the restaurant together, and they’re only five years older, and none of them have hit the big 3-0 yet, but she’s getting ready to walk down the aisle,

(She’s so, so happy, and how can he not smile for her when she shows off her ring? After all, he had helped pick it out.)

And he’s, well, he’s not.

 

 

Bomi’s apartment is virtually devoid of any furniture, save fore a few heavily taped boxes with labels such as ‘donate’ and ‘sell’, and they settle around one particularly large box that they use as a makeshift table. On top, she’d scattered photographs of dresses (all of them mermaid dresses, all of them with delicate lace somewhere) and Chorong and Naeun coo longingly.

He knows from the look on her face that she already has her heart set on one in particular, and he knows exactly which one because it suits her taste and his, but he knows that she wants all of them to approve of the exact same one.

Eunji eyes them all with a critical eye, and points to the one. “That one.”

He doesn’t have to look at Bomi to see the smile on her face; her aura is practically glowing with joy. Namjoo nods approvingly, and the rest of them follow suit.

Kyung goes to Jiho’s tux fitting too. Something sprouts in his stomach, and it’s not jealousy, it’s not, but it leaves him feeling awful by the end of the day. He hates himself for it.

 

 

Jiho calls him to his house one day, while he’s in the middle of overseeing a recording no less. He hastily hands the job completely over to Taeil and the older man only smirks in understanding.

“Duty calls, huh?”

Kyung smirks back, throwing on his heavy parka. He can’t not go, of course.

When he opens the door, the apartment is a mess and he steps on an errant piece of wood and has to squeeze his eyes shut to hold back the prickling tears of pain. When he reopens his eyes, Jiho is standing in front of him, beaming. (Always beaming now, always so happy now.)

He lets out a low whistle, taking in the newly decorated living room. He wonders out loud how he got the paint to dry so fast. It’s freaking winter. “This is totally Bomi’s style.”

Jiho sighs and practically flops to the floor, and there are a few painted fingerprints on the back of his neck. “I thought I’d broken my back at some point. Seriously, I’m not as tall as I thought I was. I freaking fell off of the stool trying to reach the top.”

Kyung sits down next to him, narrowly avoiding a fresh smear of pale, blue paint. He gives him a friendly squeeze on the shoulder. “Looks good.”

The sit there in comfortable silence until Jiho bounces back up. He pulls Kyung up without asking. “Alright. Help me move the furniture around.”

“Damn it,” he moans. In all truth, he’s more than happy to.

 

 

He’d unwittingly set them up, built the foundation of mutual curiosity and placed them neatly in a perfect first meeting.

Kyung had decided that was the day; the day he was going to tell his best friend about his long-time (and probably painfully one-sided) crush on his other best friend. Needless to say, nothing ended up the way he’d expected it to.

“Seriously? You’re there already?” he’d said into the phone as he’d hurriedly hailed a taxi. He’d laughed at her indignant response and leaned over to give the driver instruction. “Okay, okay. I’ll get someone to meet you.”

He’d sat in the back, nervously going through his contacts list while mentally preparing what he would say. His phone had begun vibrating incessantly, and his face had lit up when he read Jiho’s name.

“How was the meeting?”

He’d sighed and ran a hand through his hair, wondering if it had began to look oily in the heavy, summertime humidity. “It was good, perfect even. I know she’ll sign with us.”

“Good. Sorry I couldn’t make it. Just, I had to get this composition out of my system, you know?”

He’d smiled fondly, understanding. “Yeah. Hey, I have a favor.”

He’d heard shuffling in the other line, and then his friend settling down on a chair. “Yeah?”

“My friend, she just arrived from New York- yeah, the reporter, can you pick her up for me? Yeah, and then I’ll meet you two at the restaurant?”

The sound of keys being swiped off the table. “Yeah, of course. Can you send me her number?”

When he’d arrived, they were already seated. They’d laughed and talked the whole night, about how Kyung had said ‘this’ about the other, and how they’d both been interested in ‘that’ hobby. And even though they’d joyously sung him happy birthday, he’d suddenly felt incredibly low at the amicable sight of the both of them. He saw what was happening, fully understood what was unfolding in front of him. It happened to him too, hadn’t it? It was so natural that it killed him.

He’d wondered a long time whether that made him a bad person.

 

 

They’re sitting underneath a tent after work one night when Kyung hands him a bottle of beer.

“Stop acting like a weirdo.”

“Me?”

He keeps his face neutral, keeps his eyes glued forward. “Yeah, you.” He’s known Jiho long enough to know what this is about. His heart feels tight in his chest. “Seriously.”

Next to him, Jiho nervously strums his fingers against the glass bottle. “You’re okay with it?”

No. It kills me. “Yeah.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees Jiho’s shoulders drop in relief.

 

 

They’re perfect together. 

After four years, Bomi drops the bomb on him over dinner. But hey, at least it’s not his birthday this time.

Jiho’s eyes are bright. “You’ll be my best man, right?”

He doesn’t finish his food, and assures them it’s because of how happy he is for them, and not because his stomach feels like dead weight.

 

 

He slaps on a wide smile and straightens as Naeun’s husband begins playing the familiar keys of the wedding march. Bomi beams at him, and he thinks that even Aphrodite could never be as beautiful.

He’s so happy for her.

 

 

But when he looks across and sees Jiho absolutely awestruck in her presence, his heart feels like it’s completely emptying out, yet absolutely hammering (aching, tearing him apart from the inside) in his chest.

He feels wretched when the Priest says, “Speak now or forever hold your peace,” and he bites his tongue, bites it hard until he recognizes what the metallic taste in his mouth is.

He feels wretched as Bomi tips her face up and gives her husband a chaste kiss on the lips when all is said and done.

He feels wretched when he feels his eyes sting with unshed tears.

 

 

He feels wretched, because God help him, he would do anything to be in her spot.

**Author's Note:**

> for anon.
> 
> i just discovered Block B and wow. where have i been this whole time. 
> 
> send me requests on tumblr. :)


End file.
